


When I Move Away from View

by noxelementalist



Series: The Trouble with Rory Gilmore [2]
Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 2, Gen, Hangover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 19:42:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18079727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noxelementalist/pseuds/noxelementalist
Summary: “Listen, lady,” the clerk interrupted forcefully. “We don’t have dedicated cures for spicy carbohydrate overload.”





	When I Move Away from View

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sansets](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sansets/gifts).



> Set after s02e16 “There’s the Rub”
> 
> Title from one of the episode's songs.

 “Seriously, what _great genius of humanity_ was _stupid_ enough to invent hangover migraines? Who? You know, I bet I could sue them. I _want_ to sue them,” Paris complained to the Stars Hollow Pharmacy clerk.

“Ma’am, I—”

“It was just macaroni and cheese,” Paris continued. “Spaghetti, Milk, Cheese. I’ve had _all_ those before. Even throwing in the potatoes shouldn’t have _done_ anything to make my feel like jumping in front of a bus right now. I’m _not_ lactose intolerant.”

“I understand, but—”

“And, sure, the salt and pepper dip was a new but- wait, the _hot sauce_! Who knows what diabolical ingredients were in that thing? Okay, what do you have to cure a—”

“Listen, lady,” the clerk interrupted forcefully. “We don’t have dedicated cures for _spicy carbohydrate overload_. _Nobody_ does. We’ve got hangover cures, which are over in aisle 9 next to the headache medicine, and that’s _all_ we’ve got unless you’ve got a prescription.”

“Oh that’s- thanks for telling me!” Paris shouted after her as the clerk walked away. “I’m a lady with a headache the size of _Connecticut_ , couldn’t have just saved us all some time and told me that to begin with,” she added, grumbling as she turned and walked all of twenty feet to the aisle above which the words **_Aisle 9: Pain Prescriptions, Headaches, Cold Medicine_** were hanging from the ceiling in bold red font. The aisle itself was wider than she’d expected given how small the pharmacy had turned out to be— Paris had been expecting something the size of the CVS near Hartford, but _apparently_ quaint towns liked their medicine to be delivered in mom-and-pop’s sized places— and was packed with lots of small bottles in primary colors.

None of the bottles seemed to have a clear marker labelling it as a cure for migraines.

“Great. Just great. This is _perfect_. Now I’m going to look like a 1950s starlet juggling her pills because I decided to spice it up last night,” Paris mumbled, her eye squinting blearily as she tried to figure out what bottle would work the fastest. Finally, after comparing what felt like three shelves worth of headache medicine, Paris decided to grab a bottle labeled _Excedrin: Migraine_ , clutching it in her fist with all the force she wished she could use to choke the local diner owner for sending over large amounts of so-called comfort food to an unsupervised teenage girl’s house.

“This better work,” she told the cashier at the front. “I’m _not_ driving to Hartford like this.”

“Long morning huh?” the cashier asked, taking the bottle from her.

“Hey, I may be wearing my pajamas in public, but don’t you dare judge _me_ Miss… wait a second, is your name _really_ —”

“Yeah, I’m Gomer,” she told Paris, scanning the bottle with a tan pricer idly. “My folks were big fans of the Andy Griffith show.”

“Not a bad show,” Paris said thoughtfully as she watched Gomer hit buttons on the cash register. “Bit hokey, but could be worse.”

“Don’t I know it,” Gomer said. “They almost named me Camille. You know, like from _On the Road_?”

“ _Ugh_ , what _is_ it with you Stars Hollow people and Kerauc?” Paris groaned.

“What?”

“Seriously, last night, as I’m eating my mind out trying to get chem studying down I wind up having to listen to a dude try to convince me that Kerauc was more than a drugged prick.”

“ _No_.”

Paris nodded slowly. “Ended up having to try out his mac and cheese recipe too.”

“…Metaphorically?”

“No, for _real_. Mac and Cheese. Actual food. With hot sauce, spice dressing, and fries.”

 _And I also made a sorta-friend by lying to her boyfriend about crushing on that Kerauc loving idiot,_ Paris thought to herself. _The best mac-and-cheese I ever tried. Totally worth the lying and got me sleepover rights when all my other “friends” are dumping me and our collegiate future for their boyfriends, and my dad’s too cheap to divorce my mom because I forgot to change a decimal point…But that’s between me and Mr. Peanut’s laundress._

Gomer rolled her eyes. “ _That’s_ probably what made the headache,” she told her, her voice grabbing Paris’ attention. “That and lack of sleep.”

“Mental exhaustion from Beat Poetry and Sleep Deprivation…good to know.”

“Yep. And that’s $5, by the way.”

“For a bottle?”

Gomer shrugged. “State taxes.”

“Right,” Paris grumbled, handing over a five-dollar bill.

“So this’ll help with the Kerauc, but you might wanna try out _The Dawn’s Early Light Coffee Shop_ next door too.”

Paris looked at Gomer. “Gomer,” she said, taking in the bored look on the blonde’s face. “Caffeine makes migraine headaches _worse_.”

“Ask them for the decaf cappuccino, and they’ll even throw in a free scone,” she said grinning, pointing to a flyer on the pharmacy wall displaying the combo. “That should help settle everything.”

“Okay,” Paris said slowly as she stared at the picture. “I’ll try Bohemianing it up a bit. Thanks.”

“My pleasure,” Gomer said smiling. “I hope you have a good rest of your day!”

“Thanks,” Paris said slowly, trying not to twitch in front of the clerk. “I’ll do my best.”


End file.
